Wondering Cold
by No Time To Cry
Summary: When an inspiration trip through the Rockies starts to go downhill, most of the band don't worry. These things always work themselves out, after all. But it's different for Toki - who is so cold and lonely and tired. So very, very tired...
1. Chapter 1

A/n: Because I hate having authors notes at the end of a chapter, I'm just going to put this here. I have just started, because there were none that I could join, a Metalocalypse Writing Forum and I would love it if you all would check it out. Thanks and please enjoy the story!

* * *

><p><em>They loomed over him. Two tall, black-clad figures the only thing present in the blank whiteness that covered all else. Silent. Judging. Hating. Pallid and wrinkled skin, marred by <em>_age and a life of living in the wilderness of Norway, and small, beady black eyes that, though they explained nothing, stared down at Toki in an accusing way. As though they were silently ordering him to confess to all of his sins - whether they had really been commited or not. It was just like his childhood. And, just like when he was far younger and far weaker, Toki did as his parents wordlessly commanded._

_Sinking down on both knees, the now fully-grown Toki dipped his head so that locks of brown fell in front of closed eyes. Sharp cold shot through him as the snow dampened the thin clothe of his jeans. It spread quickly; from his knees to his legs and then up, further and further, until his whole body was chilled and shaking from the cold. But he didn't move and he didn't complain. He just did what was expected of him._

_"I'm sorry Father." He whispered, words fluid and quiet as they were spoken in his own native tounge. "I didn't mean to. I will do better next time, I promise."_

_And, just like every time he fell to his knees and begged his father for forgiveness, he had no idea what he was apologizing for. Had he not completed a task set for him? Had dinner not been completed on time? Was the yard not cleared of enough snow - because he'd done the best he could seeing as the white flakes had fallen the entirety of the time he shoveled both patches of land. _

_It didn't register in his mind that he wasn't a child. That he was a fully grown man, and a member of the most popular band in the world, wasn't even a part of Toki's thoughts. He was so intent on trying to figure out what he had done wrong this time it was like he __was__ still a child, solely dependant on the two domineering people that he called 'parents'._

_Niether one gave an answer. When his father raised a gnarled, aged hand and struck out at Toki, the resounding crack of skin against skin echoing in the icy wasteland, it was without an explaination. When his mother peered down her slightly crooked nose at him it was without concern in her eyes. And when his father raised his open hand once more, it was to strike a face that had gone completely and utterly blank._

* * *

><p>When Toki finally did wake up, he was more than a little surprised to find out that it was just as cold in the real world as it was in his dream. Which was all that it had been, really, and he knew that the moment his blue eyes opened and saw a roof above him. A roof that, due to the dark red and moldy yellow stains caused by pizza being flung and stuck to it, was easily recognizable as the Deth-Bus.<p>

Normally it would have been the warmth that made him realize what he'd just been living hadn't been real. Tonight, however, the usually toasty bus was just as cold as the open field he'd been in while he was asleep. Even the heavy quilt that was thrown over him did nothing to keep out the biting cold.

Sitting up, Toki tugged the blanket up over his shoulders and wrapped it around himself. Once he was satisfied that he was as warm as he was going to get did he get off his bed. Only to hiss and drop right back onto the mattress when his bare feet touched the ice-like wooden floor. He had forgotten that the floor of the bus was all wood and tile, much easier to hold in the cold then the carpet in his bedroom at Mord House would have been. It took a moment to work up his courage enough to stand up a second time. As soon as he did, he took off out of the room and down the hall of the bus.

Like everything that was the property of Dethklock, the Dethbus was beyond massive. Each band member had their own rooms. There was a dining room and a lounge and a recording studio; just in case Nathan was hit with inspiration while they were on the road. A kitchen filled primarially with alchohol of all sorts and a sanctioned off area where few dared to tread - Charles Ofdensen's office. Normally, Ofdensen always recieved his band with open arms. Or as open as anyone could get while they managed the most metal band in the world. Long trips like the one they were on now however, where they were literally driving _through_ the Rocky Mountains, did horrors on the usually unfazed man.

Toki guessed he could understand. He wasn't all that wild about the trip himself. Nathan had been adament that it was what he needed to write up the last few songs for their new album. Since the trip out into the Amazon Jungle had done such wonders for the singer, Ofdensen really couldn't refuse. Something about their fans going wild and killing each other off if they were kept waiting too much longer. Toki really hadn't been paying attention at the time.

Still, Ofdensen's office was exactly where he was headed. Along with all of the other vital pieces of electronics in the bus, that was where the only thermostat was kept. It was the only place that everyone had deemed it would stay safe and working - and since none of them were all that keen on freezing to death or dying of heat stroke, no matter how metal death was, that was where it had been installed. And Toki _needed_ to get their manager to turn the heat on.

When he got to Ofdensen's room, even through the heavy polished oak door, Toki could hear the voices of the rest of Dethklock inside already. Evidently he wasn't the only one that the sudden drop in temperature had woken up.

"Jusht turn it up already before I get really pished off!" Murderface's voice drowned out the rest of the band. Then everyone else could be heard stating their very prominent agreements with him.

Toki listened to everyone try to speak over each other, only half-amused because, really, it _was_ cold out, before he too let himself into Ofdensen's office. Everyone else was already crowded around their manager's desk, complaining and cursing and threatening, all without giving him an actual chance to speak and explain anything.

Toki hated it when they did that. It was like none of them had ever had it happen before. Like they didn't know how demeaning it was. How much it hurt to constantly be spoken over and have your words ignored. It was why the rhythm guitarist tried his hardest not to do that and, when he did, he always sought Ofdensen out later to apologize.

Toki cleared his throat. "Ofdensens? Why ams it beings so colds ins here?"

In the brief lapse of complaints that came with no one having realized the last member of the band had entered the room, Ofdensen sat a little straighter in his chair and started to explain. "The simple explanation would be that the thermostat has stopped working. Actually, a lot of our smaller electronics, such as the clocks and the radios, have died on us. They all went out in the last hour or two. We haven't yet figured out why."

"You mean we don't have any heat in this damn thing?" Nathan grumbled.

"That would be what I said." Ofdensen nodded. "I was actually just debating on turning us around and going home. Doing that would take less time than going all the way through the mountains like we originally planned."

"No!" Slamming his hands down on the desk in front of him, Nathan jerked out of his seat. "We can't turn this around! I've still got to write the rest of the album and this is the only way to do it! We'll just drive without heat."

Silence filled the room. Skwisgaar honestly didn't look to concerned with the announcement. A little annoyed, yes, but his face didn't show anywhere near the amount of distress that Pickles and Murderface' did. No doubt because the older guitarest liked the snow still; there was no resentment towards the weather that he'd grown up in. Even if Sweden wasn't a place that the blond wanted to visit anytime soon, he still relished in the cold. He grew up in it. Lived in it. Loved it almost as much as he loved playing his guitar actually. Especially, despite how un-brutal it was, when he got the chance to go out in it on his own and just _relax_.

But everyone else, Toki included, had a severe dislike for the weather. It was useless to them, just like rain and thunder was. And Pickles and Murderface were smart enough to know that if Nathan, a Floridian, was willing to put up with the cold for his songs then they weren't going anywhere warm anytime soon and they did little more than grumble about the decision.

With a look of almost distress on his face, Toki walked over and tapped the frontman on his shoulder. "Pleases, Nat'ans, cans we just goes home? I ams thinksing it will bes a long trips there withsout any heat."

Nathan looked down at the younger boy. Paused. Looked thoughtful and almost like he was considering the idea. Then he shook his head 'no' and left the room.

Toki didn't think having Nathan tell him 'no' to something had hit him so hard in a very long time.

* * *

><p>Everyone went off to their respective rooms after Nathan left. With a quick stop to grab some more blankets inbetween rooms. Of course, by the time that Skwisgaar and Toki managed to get to the walk-in closet they kept all of their extra junk in, Nathan and Murderface had already snagged all of the extra blankets.<p>

"Oh comes on! Why dids they leaves not'ings for us?" Toki whined. He half-heartedly rummaged through the items still left on the shelves but it was obvious that they'd already been searched through. Everything had been unfolded and tossed into the wrong spot by the time the two guitarists had gotten there.

Skwisgaar snorted. "Yous be actings like you ams never been in the colds before. Cries-baby. I's thought yous was Norwegian?"

"I ams!" Toki defended. "And I ams noes cries-baby! I's just pissed offs that they amnest evens thinkings abouts the two of us."

It was only partially a lie. A blatant one, as they always were when they came from Toki. The young man always had something about him that gave it away - usually it was his eyes, which would flick from spot to spot, though Toki himself wasn't aware of it. It was still far too early for Skwisgaar though, even to antagonize Toki, and so he just scowled, shook his head, and stalked off to his room.

And Toki stood there, in front of the closet, and watched him go.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hello everybody! I have two quick things to tell you all before you go on to read this chapter. The first is that I want to apologize for the lack of frequency in which this was updated. I won't bore you with any details or excuses, I just wanted to say that my life has become very hectic as of late and I had literally no time to sit down and write. The next chapter will be up much, much sooner. The second thing that I wanted to say is, again, an apology. This time it's for the length of this chapter. I know that it isn't very long but the plot dictates that I don't give out long chapters until Chapter Three or Chapter Four. You can expect longer parts soon though! Please stick with me everybody!

* * *

><p><em>Cold. Biting, gnawing, freezing cold clawed at his thin jacket and blew hair into his face. The wind was more than harsh and each gust of it hit him hard and tore into his skin. It tore into the exposed flesh of his face and his arms and his chest. And it tore into his back and the open, ragged streaks of inflamed flesh that lined it. It hit him sharply, stabbing at every pore and making his nerves scream.<em>

_But Toki remained silent. Completely and utterly silent. If he made a noise, even just a small hiss or a grunt of pain, of coldness, then his father would hear and he wouldn't be let back into the house. The door would be bolted shut and the blinds pulled down over the windows and he would be left out in the forest all night long. In the snow and the dark, unable to do anything but listen to the howling of the wolves and try to keep himself awake - Toki knew the stories of what happened when one fell asleep in the wilds of Norway. _

_So the young Wartooth wrapped his bare and bruised arms around his legs, the only part of him with any form of protection from the sharp winds, and did his best not to move around. Moving would keep the blood flowing to his arms and fingers, sure, but it would also tug at the lacerations that coated his back and shoulders. And that would hurt. It would also probably cause the wounds to start bleeding again which certaintly wasn't something that the young boy wanted._

_It would just be luck if he didn't get frost-bite from sitting out there without a shirt on: his father had taken that into the house with him, claiming that it would be ruined if it was left in the snow or put back on yet. Just luck. And Toki Wartooth was not known for being lucky._

Breakfast that morning was a quiet, almost subdued affair. It appeared that the cold agreed with everyone even less than they thought it would. Even Nathan, underneath of several layers of blankets and the heaviest jacket that he owned, was scowling and hunched over the table - and the large mug of black Duncan Hills coffee that sat in front of him.

Skwisgaar seemed to be the only exception out of the four members of Dethklock that had made it down to the table so far. He wore a long-sleeved shirt made out of a light material with a pair of jeans and looked perfectly at home.

"Dood, how the fuck can you wear that?" Pickles grumbled, annoyed, as he took a seat next to the lead guitarist with his own mug of coffee. Unlike the front man though, he'd already added a liberal amount of suger and brandy into it.

Skwisgaar gave him an unconcerned shrug. "It amsnest so cold. Whys ams you complaininks anyways? Yous have all of de jackets."

"Damn right I took all of the jackets. I just about froze my ass off last night!" Pickles snapped.

It was at this point, normally, that Toki would have piped up and added his own opinion about the weather. He would have agreed with Skwisgaar, because that was what he always did, and made some snide but playful comment about Pickles not being brutal. But he didn't. In fact, Toki wasn't even paying attention to the conversation going on around him.

The rhythem guitarist was hunkered down over his own mug of coffee, which had plenty of milk and fancy flavored creamer mixed in, in a manner similar to Nathan's. The bright blue quilt from his bed was draped over his shoulders, covering up the fact that he was wearing the only jacket he owned. It was a thin, ratty looking thing. Faded green and slightly stained on the back, the hems fraying, and the zipper to it had gone missing a long, long time ago. It was also one of the only things that Toki had brought with him from Norway.

Silence reigned over the table for several moments before Skwisgaar raised a thin, blond eyebrow in the younger guitarists direction. "Why ams you wearinks a blanket, Tokis? Ams cold?"

Even in his half asleep state Toki knew when he was being mocked. Knew that Skwisgaar was just trying to get a rise out of him, like the older man always did. The Norwegian just didn't care that morning. It had been too long of a night - filled with him tossing and turning, sleeping but not resting, and he just was not in the mood to banter with the lead guitarist.

"Yes, I ams very cold." Toki said, nodding. He didn't look up from his drink. As such, he didn't miss the slight flash of concern in Pickles eyes nor the way that Skwisgaar wrinkled up his nose, something that everyone in the band took as a sign that he was about to say something particularly nasty.

"You ams cold?" Skwisgaar asked, tone taking on the slight drawl that he normally spoke in when talking to Toki. "What happened to you just being pissed offs, Little Tokis? I thought you ams Norwegian?"

Last night, the comment had bothered Toki. He didn't like being thought of as weak and that was obviously what the other man was implying. That he was weak. Weaker than Skwisgaar was and, in turn, not as good as the other man. A small part of his mind equated that with being bad. And that same part, in turn, told him that being bad made him everything that his parents had accused him of being.

_Worthless boy._

_Sinner child._

_Forsaken and forever unforgiven._

With almost alarming speed, Toki stood up from his chair. The mug was still firmly clutched with both hands, the now cold coffee it held sloshing over the sides and onto his hands. His mouth formed a thin line across his face - keeping back the angry response he'd been about to throw at Skwisgaar, one which would have been an almost identicle response to what he'd said the night before. His mind was suddenly whirling and all he could think about was what he had dreamed about the night before. About how, as a child, it had been hammered into his very being that complaining brought only a lack of respect towards himself.

So he said nothing more to Skwisgaar, or to the other three members of Dethklok, all of which were staring at him, before he left the room.

XX-XX-XX-XX

For most of the day, Toki kept to himself. He stayed mostly in his bedroom, curled up in bed under all of the covers, reading. It was an old book that he'd bought on a whim during the first few weeks of his stay at Mord House. The pages of it were creased from the many dog-ears he'd folded into it and some of them even had small tears. It had been a well used book even before he'd owned it and it showed. Still, Toki enjoyed reading through it.

It had proved to be an invaluable thing to have brought with him on the trip. The difficulty that he still had when it came to reading English proved to be a welcome challenge. It kept his mind busy - off of how cold he was and the niggling remants of his dream that insisted on lurking in the back of his mind. The stories themselves, because the book contained many more than just a single tale, were an even greater distraction.

The fact that few of the classic stories had a happy ending, as the newer versions almost always did, proved to be almost comforting in a bitter-sweet way.

XX-XX-XX-XX

"Hey, uh, where's Toki at?" Nathan asked.

The frontman was standing in the doorway to the Deth-Bus's living room. His many layers of blankets were still wrapped around him, forming a multi-colored coccoon that did wonders for keeping out the coldness of the bus. Metal, it seemed, didn't hold in the heat very well as the temperature in the bus had dropped drastically within minutes of the heat going off the night before.

Murderface and Skwisgaar didn't look up from the television. After much argueing and grappling for the remote, the two had finally agreed on watching a program on TruthTv. They were both thoroughly engrossed in watching the rather pathetic criminals being caught and laughing at the comments that the shows hosts all made.

Pickles, who had curled up in one of the plush chairs spattered across the room, gave a shrug. "I dunno. Last time I saw him he was in his room readin' some book."

"Reading?" Nathan blinked. That was...Odd. Toki had never really struck him as being the type that liked reading.

"Yup." Pickles nodded, turning away when Murderface let out a particularly loud guffaw. He was just in time to catch someone walk into a bank with gun, demanding money to be put into a plastic bag.

"Is he wearing a mop on his head?" Nathan asked.

Skwisgaar snorted at the television. "These peoples ams so stupid! Even I could be robbinks things better then them."

And just like that, whatever question Nathan had wanted to ask Toki dissapeared from his mind. He grunted a 'move over' at the two band members taking up the couch before squeezing himself inbetween them. In moments, all four of them were lost in their show.


End file.
